stopped. I'll leave the intimate caressing to my husband. I suggested waiting

until tomorrow, but right now I want to be touched. Am I brave enough to askhim? she wondered. Then she shook her head. Not really. However, her nightgown remained in the bedroom. I can emerge nude. That might be clue enough.

Finished bathing, she stood and picked up a towel, pleased to be able to bend

over. Then she dried herself quickly. The chill in the room from the drafts of wintery air filtering around the windows stung her, and her nipples hardened further. Before her nerves could stop her, she walked quickly through the front room to the bedroom. Christopher reclined on the bed, reading a novel. He glanced up, and she grinned to see his eyes widen and his jaw drop.

“Did you have a good bath, love?” His calm voice seemed at odds with his

stunned expression. Clearly, he had not expected a move this bold.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Yes. I really needed that. Perhaps, sometime, we

can do… what you suggested.”

“Let me know when you're ready,” he told her eagerly.

“Is it normal for a husband to give his wife so much power over the

choices?” she asked, surprised again by his generosity and consideration.

“How do I know?” He shrugged, his lips curling into a white-toothed grin.

“I've never been married before. But I doubt it matters. Others have their marriages, but this is ours. I know what I want it to become, and I won't get there

by being controlling.”

She climbed onto the bed beside him. “The sheets have been changed.”

“They have,” he agreed.

Katerina blushed. “Well, it did have a significant mark,” she said.

“Indeed,” he winked, “and no wonder. Someone was deflowered here.”

She put on a shy, innocent expression that was only half feigned. “I think it

was me.”

“You think? Aren't you sure?” He raised one eyebrow, and something about

the position of his lips suggested he was concealing a smile.

“You know, I'm not,” she teased.

Christopher grinned before adopting a playfully wounded air. “If you've

forgotten, perhaps I should remind you.”

“Perhaps you should.” Did I just say that? What a hussy I've turned out to be. But she couldn't help beaming. An unknown sensation rose up in her—an unexpectedly pleasant one.

His wolfish expression turned concerned. “How's your back?” he asked.

She rolled her shoulders. “Better.”

“Let me see.”

Blushing, she turned reluctantly. I wish my scars would just go away. At least

from the front, I look…normal. From the back… words cannot describe.

“It does look better, I think,” he commented, trailing one finger along her skin. The deadened sensation told her he was touching scar tissue. “The bruises

are all yellow. Nothing's purple anymore, and all the scabs are solid. Can you lie

on it comfortably?”

She lowered herself to the cool sheets and positioned herself. “Not too bad.”

And completely hidden. That's even better.

“Good. Your belly?” He trailed his fingers across the skin.

She squirmed at the tickling touch. “Much better. That part wasn't as bad as it

looked. His strength was about gone at that point, so those bruises were colorful

but not very deep.”

His palm came to rest on her skin. “I'm glad to hear it. I was worried about

you.”

“I was worried about me too,” she admitted. “I think the corset didn't help.”

“Likely not. No more of that. You're slender enough without it.” He leaned

over her, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her again.

She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“Kat, are you feeling better here?” He slid his hand down to her mound.

“Yes,” she admitted through her blush. “It stopped aching in the bath.”

Uncertainty chased across his features. “Would you like to be close again?”

Steeling herself against her discomfort, she hastened to reassure her husband.